


44. Antony and Stephen cross some wires

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [44]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings: none</p>
    </blockquote>





	44. Antony and Stephen cross some wires

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: none

Stephen didn't have time to take his lover up on his kind offer of a blow job first thing, so he'd headed off to work with a belly full of breakfast and a semi hard on - food had seemed slightly more important.

Thankfully however his day had been short, some small scenes in Arrow 'HQ' with 'Felicity' and 'Diggle' all done with no hiccups, no technical fuck ups or any other delay - so it really is just 4pm when Stephen rocks up back at home. He pauses in the foyer to swap out his collars before entering the apartment proper, toeing off his sneakers and dropping his bag down.

"I'm in here," Antony calls from guest bedroom when he hears the front door. He's got three metal file boxes open on the bed, folders spread out in front of him. He shoves the confidential ones back into their respective boxes and simply closes the others.

Stephen pokes his head around the door frame. "Hey!" he smiles, eyeing the metal boxes. He's aware there is a second safe in the apartment, one that Antony didn't share with him when he moved in, he assumes these are from that safe. "Do I need to disappear for a few?"

"No, I'm good. How was work?" Antony reaches out, grabbing Stephen's wrist and reeling him in for a kiss.

"Good, as in one take for most scenes good," Stephen murmurs as he finds himself pressed tight against Antony's hard body. "Been busy?" he asks, pressing a tentative kiss to the corner of his lover's mouth.

"Yeah, but I'm done for now," Antony murmurs, smiling. Reminding himself: gentle. "And I want my boy naked."

"Wash room first Sir," Stephen pulls back a little. "Where shall I meet you?"

"Bedroom. I want you standing, hands braced against the windows, your legs spread," Antony responds almost instantly. He's already given this some thought.

"Yes Sir!" He throws Antony a wink as he disappears toward the bathroom, he sheds his clothing there pausing only to admire the bruises on his shoulders from the previous night’s filming, before he's stepping into their bedroom and pressing himself up against the glass, the city laid out in front of him.

Antony puts the rest of his work away before padding barefoot across the condo to their bedroom. Stephen's already in place and he takes a minute to use the washroom himself, grab a tube of lube and shed his own clothes. "You look incredible like that," he says softly, standing behind his boy, his cellphone in hand. "Keep your face turned to the window. I'm going to take a picture."

"Okay," Stephen nods. He shifts his posture just a little and stares out of the window, content in his own nakedness, warm from the sun that spills through the glass, a little buzz of anticipation making his skin sing.

"Beautiful," Antony murmurs, taking the time to take a few photos from different angles, Stephen's face always hidden. He sets the phone on the dresser and moves behind his boy, pressing close and kissing his shoulder, his erection pressed between Stephen's cheeks.

"Hey you," Stephen smiles, tilting his head allowing Antony more room to kiss him. "Sir seems pleased to see me," he teases softly. He rocks his hips so his Sir's cock is caressed by his butt.

"Mm. Sir is _ecstatic_ to see you," Antony murmurs, kissing his way along the curve of Stephen's throat before he drops to his knees behind his boy, hands spreading his cheeks for inspection.

Stephen makes a small noise at that move, he loves it, being looked at like that, objectified, a sweet taste of humiliation. He tips his hips allowing Sir a better angle.

"Your cunt looks healed," Antony says, using his thumbs to pry Stephen open, peer inside him.

"I think it's okay Sir," Stephen's voice is low, "I've had no discomfort for a couple of days," he admits as his cock kicks up, thickens fully.

"Good." Antony lets that pucker close again before leaning in, a wicked gleam in his eye as he swipes his tongue over it.

A sharp, surprised, inhale, and Stephen's fingers bunch up against the glass, when he breathes out it's with a soft moan of pleasure.

Antony repeats the movement, teasing over Stephen's hole again and again before he finally licks into it, pushing his tongue inside.

"Nnnggghh..." Forehead creased, eyes shut tight now, Stephen leans in against the glass as he strives to not push back against his Sir's face and that wicked tongue. "Mmm, thank you Sir."

That gets a grin and Antony noses in deeper, going all out, fucking his boy's hole as thoroughly as he can. His own cock hanging hard and heavy between his thighs.

Stephen's leaving all kinds of marks over the thick glass of the window, fingerprints, the smears from where his face, forehead, cheek have been pressed and squashed as he writhes beneath his Sir's attentions. Beads of precum spill from his dick, strings of it hang from the tip, stretching out toward the floor. "Please....please..."

Antony tongue-fucks Stephen until his cunt is good and wet and open. But that doesn't stop him from reaching for the lube. From thickly slicking his own cock. After four fucking days without being inside his boy, he sure as hell doesn't want a repeat of that. Not this soon anyway. He rises to his feet, lining up the moment he's there, one hand on Stephen's hip as he guides himself inside. Slowly.

There's a moment when he tenses, but it's reflexive and Stephen overcomes it by taking a long deep breath, letting that tension bleed away when he exhales, he bears down, willing his body to take Antony's cock, wanting it, craving it at this point. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Stephen's forehead is wrinkled in effort.

"That's it, boy," Antony breathes, pushing deeper, the heat, the tight fucking heat of it making his head swim. "Let me in."

"Yes Sir..." Stephen grinds out, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts, fogging the glass.

"Oh, god, you feel so good," Antony groans, placing his hands over Stephen's and pushing them up the glass until they're above their heads as he bottoms out, balls-fucking-deep inside his boy.

"Made for you," Stephen whispers back, his whole body consumed by Antony - by the feel of his skin pressed to his, by his Sir's breath hot against the nape of his neck, by the intense pressure of being filled by his Sir's cock. "Made for your pleasure, for your use...for you."

"Mine. My boy, my fuck toy," Antony murmurs, starting to move, starting to slowly build his rhythm, sliding into Stephen's body again and again.

"My Sir...mine...my lover and _my_ Sir," the words are pushed out through clenched teeth as he rides back against each thrust, it's a slow but very thorough fucking.

"Yours," Antony growls softly, biting at the back of Stephen's neck as he fucks him, teeth digging in just above his collar.

The biting is delicious, it's something Stephen loves but they both avoid indulging in, it's too easy to leave marks, marks Stephen would struggle to explain. "Oh yes, thank you, fuck your boy...he's missed this."

Antony drops a hand to Stephen's cock, wrapping his fingers around it and stroking in time with his thrusts. He's close and getting closer, riding that edge of pure pleasure with no hope of making it last much longer. Not after four days. "You're gonna come with me. You're gonna come and you're gonna fucking paint the window with it."

"Hmm, yes, yes Sir," Stephen grits out, his Sir's hand adding the extra stimulation he needs to take him right to the peak of his pleasure. His body tenses, bow tight and then it snaps as his cock sprays semen against the glass and his ass clenches down on the cock inside him.

Antony shouts, head lifted, hips snapping, pumping his seed into his boy's hole, the orgasm slamming right through him. "Jesus, fuck..."

Stephen huffs out a breathy laugh. "Yeah...yeah..." he nods, his whole body trembling with the aftershocks of his own completion. He turns his head. " _That_ was gentle?" he teases.

"Comparatively," Antony answers, grinning. He kisses Stephen. "Love you."

It's a messy, slightly awkward kiss and Stephen manages a whispered "Love you too," back. All he wants now is to lie down and cuddle, to wrap himself around his Sir and just...be.

"I challenge you to do gentle before you leave next," he teases, dropping one hand to reach around and rub the pads of his fingers over Antony's hip.

"And I promise to rise to the challenge," Antony says, eyes sparkling, crinkling at their corners as he presses another kiss to the corner of Stephen's mouth.

"Heh, I see what you did there," Stephen smiles against Antony's mouth. "You think we might move? I'd like to lie down with you."

Antony just smiles and eases out, drawing Stephen to the bed. When they're lying down, bodies entwined, pressed as close as they can get, he says, "What about dinner? You want me to make something or order in?"

"Order in," Stephen murmurs, pressing little kisses to the crinkles at the corner of Antony's eyes. "Not letting you go, you feel too good."

"So do you," Antony murmurs back, sinking into the bed and Stephen more fully. Relaxed in a way he hasn't been all day. "Thai, Indian or Italian?"

"Italian," Stephen loves his pasta, and his pizza, hell any damned carb. "How're you feeling?" he asks pulling back a little, now he's relaxing, Stephen can tell how wound up his lover had been, a situation Stephen had put down to the 'no fucking' rule.

"Good," Antony answers. "Really good, and that's all you."

"All?" Stephen's brows lift a little. "That's a lot to put on a guy," he teases, fingers petting Antony's chest hair.

"I just mean you relax me," Antony says with a soft smile. "I used to need an hour with my fists taped up or a _really_ brutal scene, fuck, to decompress, but with you, the tension simply drains away. And yeah, some of that's fucking you after four days of not," he admits, smile deepening, "but it also happens the minute I see you after a job. I don't have to run down to the gym or pound someone into the fucking floor."

"I'm glad I'm good for you," Stephen murmurs, a little taken aback at Antony's confession, at the proof of how he's something _good_ for a Sir, even when he's not on his knees."And now... now when you come home from the next trip, you'll know I'll be here, waiting for you."

Antony nods. "I know. I'm really looking forward to that. Coming home to you."

"It’s going to be weird being here all that time without you though, going to take a little getting used to, it still feels like I'm just hanging out here for a few days, making it home will take longer..." Stephen admits, watching his fingers as he picks up and rubs the dog tags Antony wears.

"Make sure you do whatever you need to make it feel that way," Antony says. "Move things around, add some of your own touches. I don't mind. I want it to be _our_ place."

"I'm sure it will, it'll just take time, I mean this...all of this, happened so quickly, maybe it's time we slowed down huh? So we can savour it." He lets the tags slip from his fingers and wriggles onto his back.

Antony shifts with him. "Yeah, that's fine. Whatever you want," he murmurs, thinking about the fact that nothing in his life is really slow, certain, routine. He's gone from job to job, country to country, with nothing and no one but this place and Marcus of any real permanence until now. "I'm not trying to rush you."

"No, I know that," Stephen turns his head, his lover's face so close, those blue eyes watching him, like they always do. "And I wouldn't change a thing so far, but it's good to stop and smell the roses isn't it? Especially when it's good times, when it's the best times?"

Antony nods. "Yeah, it is," he says softly. He smiles. "Although you might have to remind me a few more times before I really get that."

"Okay, just like you have to keep reminding me this is permanent, that I'm good enough huh?" There's a lightness to Stephen's tone that suggests he's not feeling needy right now, he's just pointing out the mutual need they have for reassurance.

Antony grins. "Point taken," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss Stephen softly on the mouth.

Stephen kisses back, keeping it gentle, letting Antony lead - as usual - he slides one hand up around Antony's neck, his finger tips rubbing at the nape, in and out of Antony's hair line.

"We keep going like this," Antony says between kisses, palm moving over Stephen's stomach, over that warm skin, those rock-hard abs. "We're never going to get to dinner."

"Dinner?...We can order in...then get busy while we wait hmm?" Stephen hums into Antony's kisses, his belly muscles fluttering under those caresses. "Won't take that long for me to suck you off?" he murmurs mischievously, nipping at Antony's bottom lip.

Fuck. "You, stay there," Antony orders, jumping up from the bed and going in search of his phone which he left on the kitchen island.

Stephen's laughing and hanging off the edge of the bed - all the better to admire Antony's ass as his lover disappears from the bedroom. That done he drops back staring up at the ceiling, smiling to himself and stretching out under the covers. He feeling rather fucking content with life at the moment.

Antony rings up their favourite Italian place and puts in their usual order, all while he's walking back to the bedroom, a huge grin plastered across his face. "Forty-five minutes? That's perfect," he says, dropping his phone on the night table and crawling back onto the bed.

"Hmm, forty-five minutes? That's a lot of time to fill." Stephen kicks down the duvet and opens his arms for his lover. "C'mere."

Antony presses close, kissing Stephen, their tongues tangling, his cock already hard between them again. "What was that you said about sucking me off?" he murmurs, eyes sparkling.

"Insatiable," Stephen accuses playfully, his hands mapping out the play of muscle over Antony's back, "Also... impatient."

"That's all your fault," Antony teases back, kissing his way down Stephen's throat, along his collar, dropping his head to bite at his boy's nipples. "What you do to me."

"No, no, no, you were..." Stephen pauses to groan at the play of teeth on his skin. "...a...horny fuck before you met me," he points out, even as his own cock thickens and precum smears against Antony's belly.

Antony laughs, delighted. "Damn right I was," he says, teeth scraping skin as he moves lower, nipping, sucking, heading for his boy's cock. "But you pushed that into overdrive."

"It's not...my fault," Stephen protests one last time, though his voice is breaking by the time he finishes. "Oh...fuck..." that first breath over the head of his cock has his skin prickling up with goosebumps, flushing pink.

Antony flicks his tongue into the slit, twirls it around the crown, sucking lightly on the head before taking Stephen deeper and deeper into his throat.

"Tony!" Stephen hisses out his lover's name, as he grabs fistfuls of bedding, twisting and yanking on it in an effort not to jerk his hips up into Antony's mouth.

But Antony doesn't respond. He simply doubles his efforts, head bobbing, Stephen's cock going deep into his throat with every drop. Two fingers pushes between his lover's cheeks, seeking out his hole, his still come-slicked hole.

Almost the moment Antony's fingers slip inside him, Stephen realises he's lost the fight, his orgasm coils swift and tight, his body shuddering as he tenses and then it snaps, and he's yelling out his pleasure, heels stuck hard in the bed as he pulses his cum down Antony's throat.

Antony chokes, Stephen's orgasm taking him by surprise, but he manages to swallow down every last drop and then pulls off, coughing, staring up at Stephen from between his thighs. "You didn't have permission for that."

Stephen's not fully with it, the orgasm had been intense and his brain is a little fried. He stares back at his lover - his Sir. Then blinks, _FUCK!_.

He pushes up onto his elbows, his breathing still ragged. "I...I thought..." he trails off, his gaze dropping. "I'm sorry."

Antony nods. "Good. But it's not enough," he says, especially since it's the first time Stephen's broken their rules. "I want you standing in the middle of the living room, hands laced behind your head. I'll be there in a minute."

Right now Stephen's caught with a riot of emotion, part irritation, part shame and a whole heap of petulance. He schools his face best he can to cover that while he sorts his head out and merely nods and murmurs a soft, "Yes Sir," as he pushes up and off the bed. He makes his way out to the living room, stands as instructed, feet hip width apart, arms up - and he concentrates on his breathing, hoping it will calm him down enough to take his punishment without fucking up any further.

Antony throws on a pair of black pajama pants and grabs a leather parachute and three 8-ounce ball weights from his toy chest in the closet. "You'll stand here until the food comes. When the guy calls up, I'll let you out," he says, moving around Stephen to fasten the parachute around his balls and snap one of the weights onto the chains hanging from it. "Break position and I'll add the second one. Break it again and you'll get the third. I want you standing there like a fucking statue until he comes. Got it, boy?"

What had been such a wonderful time, lazing in bed, joking with his lover is reduced to this. Stephen's jaw works as he fights to control his voice to offer up the response Antony is waiting for. He stares straight ahead, takes a breath. "Yes Sir," he hopes there's no attitude in his tone, and the moment he's acknowledged Sir's directive he presses his lips closed into a thin line, because that _boy_ cuts like a knife.

It's obvious Stephen's pissed off and there's a part of Antony that would like to just let it go, but he's not one to second-guess himself, never has been. Instead he busies himself with getting plates, cutlery, napkins...

The weight on his balls isn't that unpleasant to start with - but the longer Stephen stands there, the more fucked off he gets, and the angrier he is the more his body starts to rebel, so the weight and the drag downward morphs into irritating and then deeply uncomfortable. His mind is spinning with all kinds of arguments about why this is unfair, and why he shouldn't be punished and then he gets resentful that he can't even safeword to talk it over. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Antony checks his phone, sends a few texts, glances at the clock, figuring out how much longer his boy has to go. He stretches out on the couch by the window, gaze flickering from his boy to his phone and back again. Impressed.

Stephen absolutely refuses to look at his Sir. Because right now he's not sure he'd be able to hide the anger that his Sir would read in his eyes. So he keeps his chin up, jaw clenched, body still.

Antony gets a surprising amount done in the last ten minutes before the phone rings. He jumps up and answers, nodding as the concierge lets him know his delivery's here. "Send him up," he says, nodding at Stephen as he hangs up the phone. "You're good. You can take that off and go put some shorts on."

He doesn't respond other than breaking posture and snapping off the parachute. He carries it with him back to the bedroom and tosses it on the bed before pausing to cup and fondle his balls. They ache and he's no nearer being calm than he was when this all kicked off. Taking some shorts from the dresser he heads to the bathroom, figuring he can use the excuse for a bathroom break to chill the fuck out before he has to face his Sir, who he thinks is expecting him to be something other than pissed.

The food delivered, Antony divides it among two plates, enough left for seconds if they want it. He eyes the chocolate chip cannoli, tempted to steal one now but sets them aside for later instead, pouring two glasses of wine to have with their dinner. He sets everything out on the coffee table, switching on their new television. Sets up the first season of _Game of Thrones_ which they've been watching as they can. Tosses the other ball weights in the end table drawer.

In the end Stephen returns to the bedroom to pull on a long sleeve tee, a petulant act of 'you said shorts, so I'm adding more', then he pads back to the main living area, where he can smell food. He takes a seat beside Antony, though not close enough to touch.

"You hungry?" Antony asks, more to make small talk than anything else. He offers Stephen the basket of garlic bread.

"I should eat," Stephen concedes, which is different to being hungry, which he's not, not any more. He waves off the bread and picks up silverware and a plate, setting it on his lap.

"You want to watch this?" Antony says, waving the remote at the TV. "Or just eat."

"Yeah put it on," Stephen nods, at least he won't have to talk if they're watching TV. He turns his attention to his food and sets about it with quiet concentration.

Starting up the next episode, Antony settles back with his food and his wine. It takes a few minutes to get into the show, aware as he is of the tension rolling off the man beside him, but the show's good, the food even better and he soon relaxes.

Stephen clears his plate, excuses himself to collect a glass of water and then settles back down again, slowly he starts to let it go, the anger, the sense of unfairness, and it leaves him feeling tired and a little headachy. He's still not ready to initiate any physical contact but he does at least relax into the couch, legs curled under him.

"There's chocolate chip cannoli," Antony points out as he finishes his own meal. "You want some?"

"No thank you," Stephen drains his glass and rolls to his feet, "Just gonna grab some more," he waves the glass back and forth and then scoops up their empty plates and heads into the kitchen.

Antony nods, pausing the show and watching Stephen as he putters around in the kitchen. It's almost unheard of for his boy, his lover, to turn down something sweet and it shows Antony how unhappy Stephen is right now.

Putting the plates in the dishwasher, Stephen turns to top up his large glass with fresh iced water, he picks up the wine bottle and carries it through. Antony had all but drained his glass and he offers it to his Sir before sitting down.

"Thanks." Antony glances at the television, not really sure where they are in the program, but it's paused anyway so... "Do you want to talk about earlier?"

And for the first time since he met Antony, Stephen slips in an old habit, one learnt from experience; he hides behind an pleasant and obedient boy front. "No thank you," he shakes his head and tucks one legs under himself, sipping at his water.

But Antony's not about to let it go that easily. "Look," he says softly. "You're obviously unhappy, this is the first time we've had to deal with this, so talk to me. Let us work it out so we're both on the same page. I don't expect you to be thrilled after I've punished you but if you're actually _unhappy_ , I want to know why."

Stephen's fingers tighten around the glass in his hand, so much so he suddenly leans forward to set it on the coffee table, afraid he might shatter it. Instead he balls his hands into fists and lets them sit in his lap as he fights the panic that's crawling up his throat. Before, before Antony, when he was with Cam, Stephen was never allowed to question punishments, to do so would invite further ire - so to be asked to explain himself... it's a situation fraught with pitfalls in Stephen's mind. "You won't punish me again, if I answer?"

"No. You can speak freely with me now," Antony says. "I may not agree with you. _We_ may not agree. But I won't punish you for anything you say."

Now he looks up, as if gauging the honesty of Antony's reply - and this too is a reflexive, unconscious thing, because deep down, Stephen knows Antony would never say something he didn't mean. He gives a small nod. "I didn't think it was fair for you to punish me," he looks down at his hands again. "We were being lovers...I thought...so I let my guard down."

So that's it. "We _were_ being lovers," Antony agrees, "but I view your orgasms as mine, always, unless I give you blanket permission beforehand. You don't see it that way?"

Stephen's shoulders slump a little. "I thought it was a grey area, that you'd cut me some slack when we're being like that, otherwise I have to be on my guard every single time we're together," he blows out a breath. "I do normally wait, or ask... I just..." he stops to shrug.

Antony nods. "I get it," he says, "and to be honest, there are probably times I would cut you some slack. When I know I've pushed too hard or you tried your best, or yes, even when we're being lovers and it sneaks up on you. I guess I felt it was important, this first time, to show you I _would_ punish you. That I'd do it and then it would be over and things would be fine."

"So how am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to know that _this_ is the time you'll give me a freebie, or this time I get punished? It did sneak up on me today, I thought you'd realised that, because I don't normally cum that quick the second time. So how am I supposed to know?"

"You should always assume you need permission," Antony says simply. "And if I decide not to punish you, to give you a freebie, that's my prerogative."

Stephen doesn't like that answer, he doesn't think Antony is being fair, but he has to suck it up and deal with it. Least ways he knows where he stands now; always on guard. "Okay," he gives a half shrug and tucks his hands tight in his lap.

"What would you have me do?" Antony asks, because he honestly wants to hear it.

"I don't know," Stephen shakes his head. "All I could think was how unfair I thought you were being, and how I couldn't even safeword to talk it over with you, I just had to fucking suck it up and then act like my feelings didn't matter,"

Antony's silent, thinking things through. It was Stephen who wanted to give up his safeword in the first place but Antony who took it. "I'm not always going to be fair," he says finally. "This - you being my boy - isn't about being fair. It's about you being mine. About you being owned. I don't ask for a lot as a sir, I don't think, but I do ask for your pleasure, your orgasms, to belong to me. Always. I can't imagine having to flip flop back and forth on whether this is free orgasm day or time or whatever. It would drive me fucking mad to be honest. But if you do come without permission, I'll take the circumstances under consideration and if I punish you, we can talk about it after and I may change how I react the next time. And if you want free time when we're on vacation or we're visiting your parents or whatever, even a weekend, we can work with that. But I want it set out beforehand."

"I never asked to flip flop back and forth, I just thought there was a grey area when we are being lovers." All the fight's gone out of Stephen now, and his voice is low. "But now I know where I stand and that's fine. It's clear now - so I'll be prepared."

Antony stares at Stephen for a long moment, wavering, and he /never/ fucking wavers. Christ. It doesn't feel like it's resolved, doesn't feel like Stephen's happy, but he's damned if he knows what to do about it. He can't undo the punishment and even if he could... he meant what he said, that he wants Stephen's orgasms, always, unless they talk about it beforehand. Eventually he just nods then glances at the TV. "You want to watch the rest of this?"

"No," Stephen shakes his head. "Please may I go for a bath? It'll give me some thinking time, and then maybe I'll be better company when I'm done?" He looks up at his Sir. "Honestly, this is something I do when I get upset, it calms me down, gives me some space."

Antony nods again. "Go ahead, and take your time. Add some bubbles," he says with a smile, reaching for his wineglass.

Rolling to his feet, Stephen pauses, then leans down to press a kiss to Antony's head then he's gone, straight to the bathroom, the tub and the water that always soothes him.

The kiss makes Antony feel a little better. He turns the show off, puts the rest of the wine away and finishes cleaning up after dinner. Unsure how long Stephen will be, he settles back on the couch when he's done, opening up his laptop and diving back into his work.

It's over an hour later when Stephen reappears, skin pink, wearing loose pj pants. "So, there was dessert?" he asks, quirking a questioning brow at his Sir. He's feeling more himself now, more centred for sure, the anger has gone and he's just left feeling a little bruised. He has some thinking to do though, but Stephen knows himself well enough to know that will work its way out over the next day or so.

Antony looks up from the laptop. "Yeah. Cannoli. I left them on the counter," he says, shutting down. "How was your bath?"

"Exactly what I needed," Stephen smiles. "I feel a lot better,"

"Good." Antony sets the laptop aside and shifts, making room on the couch for Stephen. "Want to just bring the box over?"

"Yeah, sure." Stephen heads to the kitchen, grabs a handful of paper napkins and the box of cannoli and then settles down beside Antony.

Reaching in, Antony grabs a cannoli and a napkin and takes a bite, careful not to get the crumbling pastry all over himself. "Mm. Oh my god. These are the best..." he mumbles, smiling at Stephen.

Stephen pouts. "I thought they were all for me!" he protests, peering in the box and picking out one of his own. Antony can put away his own share of dessert, but usually only after prompting. He was of course teasing, because fuck, if he ate all these his green Arrow pants would never fit again.

"They're mostly for you," Antony says, watching Stephen for a moment before he leans in and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth. "And some day we'll go to Italy, visit Sicily while we're there and hunt down the original best ones."

Blue eyes flick up to meet those of his lover, and Sir. A smile, and then a quiet "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Antony murmurs, watching Stephen eat and simply enjoying the closeness between them again. "Are you in early tomorrow?"

"8.30, just a little later," Stephen licks his lips, the sugar's exactly what he needed after the bath and the time alone. He feels pretty much himself again. "Should be done by 6, I have an interview scheduled in the afternoon."

"Do you want to meet for dinner at the club? Or do you want me to make something?" Antony's got another meeting with Marcus and he was thinking about having Stephen join them for a drink but now it feels like he should wait on that.

"Dinner at the club? Three times in one week? Dude...my ass!" Stephen laughs. "I might have to ask you to order for me." He wipes his fingers on a napkin and puts it aside, slouching back in the couch.

Antony laughs. "We could go somewhere else but I want to be able to touch you," he says. "We'll order light." He grins. "Nice big salad for you."

"Okay," Stephen nods easily, "I mean it, you're gonna have to moderate my eating there, at least during the week." He rubs his belly and eyes the empty cannoli box. "Or we're really going to have to start that boxing training some time soon."

"How about when I get back?" Antony asks, excited at the prospect. He loves boxing, loves his gym and can't wait to show Stephen the place, see how he likes it.

"Yeah, that would be cool, gives us an excuse to be seen together too, and you smacking me around..." Stephen trails off with a grin. "That'll be _such_ a hardship."

"Then you'll have a legit explanation for bruises," Antony points out, grinning back.

"Ugh, yeah I might need to check _that_ with my director," Stephen pulls a face, "Though I guess it'd save make up time if I have the real deal huh?" he shrugs. "I reckon couple a times a week and then I can cut back on an gym session in exchange, it'd be like public foreplay."

Christ. Antony's cock kicks up, liking _that_ idea very much, thank you. "It's a fantastic workout," he agrees. "Whole body, high intensity. Once you learn proper technique, you'll be surprised just how much it does."

"Plus I get to hit you too, it's a win, win," Stephen laughs, then yawns and scratches his belly. He's tired what with the up and down of the evening, and he's ready for bed, early though it is.

"Just as long as you don't put me out of commission," Antony teases, then smiles at Stephen. His lover looks tired, the yawn only underscoring that. "Want to call it a night?"

"Yeah, I'm done in, you can read for a while though, or get on with some more plotting," Stephen waves a hand at Antony's laptop, "Join me later when I've got the bed warm."

"Okay." Mostly Antony's been joining Stephen when he turns in, but tonight's even earlier than usual and he's not really ready. "I won't be long."

"S'okay, I think I'll be asleep the moment my head hits the pillow," Stephen pushes up onto his feet, and leans in to offer Antony a kiss.

"Sleep tight. I love you," Antony murmurs, kissing Stephen softly.

"Love you too," Stephen whispers back, he rights himself and grins. "Night."


End file.
